


Taking Back

by gondalsqueen



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, PIV Sex, PWP, Post-Zero Hour, SO, also they are still filthy from Atollon, and doing a poor job of staying quiet, and just so happy to be alive, post-battle-sex, post-season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 19:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14527890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gondalsqueen/pseuds/gondalsqueen
Summary: They had escaped, but none of them had really left Atollon behind yet. Today had been all terror and loss and devastation. Now Hera let a tiny seed of vengeful joy creep into her heart.“Want to go somewhere?” she asked.“Yes,” he answered immediately.





	Taking Back

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. This is the scene that results in Jacen coming along eventually. And the more I think about it, the more I think it’s got to be right then. I’m assuming she’s already pregnant during the Siege of Mandalore ([here's why](https://gondalsqueen.tumblr.com/post/173244173917/so-according-to-next-season-amazing-fic-hera)). At the end of Zero Hour: Part Two, Sabine says she’s going to head back to Krownest to help her mother, and Hera says she can’t go because she has to get the soldiers to Yavin--implying that Sabine’s leaving before they even get to Yavin. But we know that Kanan (and Chopper and Ezra) go with Sabine. Assuming they all leave at the same time (which I guess is an assumption, but how many shuttles do they have?), on the ship right now is pretty much when it’s got to happen. When did they find time for that? They’re experts, okay?

Even after Hera had initiated the second hyperspace jump that would take them to Yavin IV, nobody felt the slightest bit tired. They were too charged with adrenaline, too horrified by loss, too aware of all the lines and colors and sensations that came with being _still alive not dead somehow not dead_.

They had escaped, but none of them had really left Atollon behind yet.

Kanan moved among the rebel soldiers they’d rescued, finding every blanket and empty cup and tube of bacta on the ship. Hera stayed at the helm, monitoring the sensors and watching the galaxy blur past them. She finally left the cockpit only because she had to use the fresher and couldn’t put it off any longer. 

Before she got back to work, she spared a glance in the small mirror above the sink. Sure enough, she looked like she felt—every visible centimeter of skin covered in grit, dried pathways where rivulets of sweat had crept down her face. A mess. She didn’t bother to wash the dirt off because the ordeal didn’t feel over yet.  

As soon as she opened the fresher door Kanan appeared, threading his way through the crowded common area with an ease that still shocked her. “Hey,” he caught her wrist abruptly but kept his voice low. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah. Yes. You?” 

“Yeah.” But he didn’t let go until she took her hand back, and she only took it back so she could peel off her gloves and run her hands over his head and neck to check him out for herself.

“You’ve got a bump back here.” 

“Thrown off my speeder. It’s nothing.” He was also wearing a fine layer of dust, a smudge of what looked suspiciously like dried blood peeking out of his hairline just above the ear. Impossible to tell if he was concussed from shining a glowrod in his eyes anymore, but he didn’t move like he’d been seriously injured. They’d made it, then. Today had been all terror and loss and devastation. Now Hera let a tiny seed of vengeful joy creep into her heart.  

“Want to go somewhere?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

So they walked to her bunk, which housed the classified communications array and was therefore the only place aboard the Ghost NOT filled with soldiers. They stepped around three people in the hallway before they got the door open, and by then Kanan must have begun to feel the exhaustion, because he tripped over the ledge in front of the door and took them both down. Hera hit the ground awkwardly, failing to muffle a grunt as her elbow struck the deckplate.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The door whoosed closed behind them. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Okay? The jolt of that landing had sent her right back into battle mode, heart racing again. She was better than okay; she could handle anything. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a bruising kiss, muffling his sound of delighted surprise. Then she ran her hands up his face and pulled the mask right off. It clattered on the floor and skidded across the room. “I’m all right,” she said. A kiss against the corner of his lips. “I’m good. I’m all right.” Another kiss. “I’m alive.” And there was his tongue, tracing her lip before pushing into her mouth. She sucked at it once, twice, then bit his lower lip lightly. “You’re alive.” He laughed, voice rough, and she tasted blood where his lip had already been split once today. Oops, too hard.

He didn’t seem to mind, though; he just shifted his weight to straddle her thigh. When she pushed him up—because he really did weigh too much, pinning her against the metal floor like this, and she couldn’t breathe—he rolled and pulled her on top of him. Then he ran his hands down her breasts and over her ass, pulling her tight against his hips. Wasted effort, Kanan—she was already grinding insistently against the definite ridge of his erection.

“Too much,” she gasped out, and he moved his hands immediately to the deck on either side of them. “No,” she clarified. “Too many CLOTHES. Sit up.”

 _Oh_ , said his hands, gripping her hips. He rolled into a sitting position and she fell backwards a little on his lap. Some other time, they would undress each other leisurely. Tonight they were filthy and sweaty and bruised and hot for each other and not dead, and they stripped down to their undergarments without a moment of time wasted. 

Hera had planned to push him back to the floor, but he pushed her up against the wall first. In the same motion he dipped his head to her ear and—oh, that wasn’t fair—the underside of her lek. His hands cradled her head, thumbs stroking the line of her jaw. She moaned with nothing to muffle the sound against and bucked with nothing to grind her hips against, and her ass hit the wall with a noticeable thump. His chuckle vibrated against tchin. Oh, we’ll see about that, Kanan Jarrus. He’d left enough space for her to run her fingers over his collarbone and down his chest, hands meeting at the groin where the evidence of his interest was pushing against his undershorts. Hot and hard. Alive, alive, alive. She straightened him through the thin cloth, fingers stroking up and down too lightly to be satisfying. His breath stuttered against her neck.

“Good?” she asked, and it was half-moan and half-question.

“Yes,” he breathed.

She tightened her grip and pulled, giving him a few sharp, gratifying tugs before dropping to her knees and planting a wet-mouthed kiss on him, right through the cloth.

“I’m sweaty and dirty and disgusting,” he warned her.

“Well, that would be the first time.”

“And I want to fuck you against the bunk.” 

The pang of desire clenched low in her stomach. _Show him you’re alive_ , it insisted. But she was pretty sure she could stoke it higher first. “I know, dear,” she told him with studied nonchalance. “Just let me suck your cock for a minute first.”

And THERE was the response she’d been looking for, the groan ripping from his throat, his erection twitching under her hand. She shoved his underwear down and closed her fist around him, then licked the salt from his tip. “Hera.” A quick, desperate whisper.  But she wasn’t particularly well hydrated just now—not in her mouth, anyway—so she took her time licking his length: top, sides, bottom. There. Now he was thoroughly lubricated (not to mention panting between clenched teeth in the sexiest way) and she could slide him into her mouth easily. He was, in fact, fairly pungently Kanan-smelling today, but he was also not particularly small in this state, and she couldn’t get him in deeply enough for it to be a real problem, anyway. And oh, she loved this, pulling off of him with an audible smack, then letting him part her lips and push back into her mouth, knowing very well where he’d put that in a few minutes. She tilted her head and took him greedily.

Hera-aaa!” His voice rose sharply, too loud on the last syllable for subtlety.

“Hmmm?” she asked, mouth full. 

“You—” He palmed a lek, fondling its base, and she swallowed a groan, which also meant literally swallowing on him. “Aah!” He took a steadying breath. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

She licked once, all the way up his underside, then said, “I trust your stamina, Jedi.”

“Nuh uh.” He touched her face softly. “Come here.” 

She took his hands and he helped her up. _He’s strong_ , sang her heart. _He’s right here and healthy. So are you,_ the pulse of blood in her veins insisted. She gave him a salty kiss as his hands at her hips guided her to the bench underneath her bunk, leaving her legs hanging off the side. He leaned in over her.

“Take my shorts off.” She wriggled her hips to help.

Kanan slipped a finger up the leg of her underwear and gave her one leisurely stroke. “You’re not ready yet.”

“I’m wet, aren’t I?”

He grinned at her, though she didn’t think that really qualified as dirty talk. “You are wet,” he confirmed. “But that’s left-over adrenaline from combat.” He withdrew his hand and pressed all four fingers between her legs, rubbing easy circles over the cloth of her shorts. “Have a little patience with me. I know you.”

She let out a quick breath. “You DO know me.” Under that slow pressure, she was getting ready fast. Kanan grinned and switched to his palm, which was nice, but— “Nn… Other way,” Hera said. And there were his fingers again, the pressure steady, slow, unceasing. “Kanan,” she gasped, “Good.” 

When he slipped his hand up the leg of her shorts this time she rocked against his fingers, and when he slid one inside of her, then two, filling her and then stroking up to her clit, she reached down to close him in a fist, pumping hard. He exhaled sharply, that stark set to his jaw, and sank his fingers into her again. She shuddered, her body begging him, but just in case he hadn’t gotten the message...

“Kanan—” She arched upwards, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down to her. “Fuck me, love.” There. Huskily, right in his ear. She bit the lobe lightly and breathed, “Fuck me.” 

He had her shorts off in a flash and her knees pushed apart. Hera locked her thighs on either side of his waist and guided him in with a deft hand, and oh, it felt good, and oh, when was the last time she’d had him inside her? She moaned as he pushed in again: “Yes, love, yes.”

Kanan, hands on her rear, twisted her around to lie fully on the bench and moved on top of her without ever pulling out. She wrapped her legs around his middle and her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer, sweat and grit and hot skin against her own. Kanan’s hand snaked behind her head, cupping her skull to keep her lekku from banging against the bench. Then they ground themselves into each other, Hera digging her heels into his backside to control their pace while Kanan pushed deep, driving his pelvis and all that rough hair against her clit.

He got excited fast, then slowed and called on some of that Jedi stamina she’d teased him about. Hera adjusted to his pace but tightened her legs insistently around him, pulling him in. “Are you meditating on me?” she murmured in his ear.

He stifled a groan. “I’m trying not to come on you.” 

A throaty laugh. She ran her tongue around the whorl of his ear for good measure.

“Yet.” He dipped his head to her collarbone. His lips closed on that pulse point and Hera arched up against him, hypercharged. Everything he did made her want to come and crawl out of her own skin at the same time. And there he was again, the slow rocking of his hips, the jolt when he filled her completely, the stretch of muscle at her entrance where she couldn’t quite clench because he was seated inside her. He picked up the pace again steadily, at first that slow, rolling move of his body against hers, then more and more eager until he was pushing her up the bunk with each thrust. He was deep and not particularly gentle, but Hera wanted more—the end to battle, proof that neither enemies nor death could beat either of them.  If she could just… yes… 

She brought her legs up, bracing her toes on the grating of the bunk above her head.

Kanan drove home. “Oh, sweet Force, that is—”

“—deep,” she gasped. She’d felt that one against her cervix. 

“Too deep?”

“No, just…”

“Take it slow?” 

“Fuck. Me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He burned inside her, pushing in and then drawing back wetly, meeting her body with the crude sound of flesh smacking flesh. It was filthy and exactly what she wanted. She was close, so close, each thrust pushing her right up to the edge and then drawing back a moment before she tipped over. Kanan was close too, his rhythm fast and desperate. He was driving her up against the end of the bench; her head hit it lightly once, twice… and then she gasped as the climax ripped through her, muffling the sound in her own shoulder. Kanan came on the second thrust, spilling into her with a shaky, relieved shout.

She brought her legs down carefully, tucking them by his sides. He leaned over her on his elbows, dripping sweat into the dust on her neck and shoulders.  “Hera, that was… You are incredible. That didn’t hurt?”

“That was EXACTLY how I wanted it.”

Truthfully, she’d feel it for a couple of days after being ploughed like that, the twinges between her legs a welcome reminder that they were still alive and together, for all that they’d lost.

Kanan rubbed her knee, kissed her shoulder, and carefully withdrew, rolling off of her.

“Hold on a minute,” Hera told him. “I’ll find a cloth.” A single cloth was ALL they could find though, so they went back to work even less clean than they’d been before. And if she looked anything like Kanan, not so subtle about the encounter. He had clean spots everywhere she’d kissed—up the side of his face, down his neck, on his lips. Luckily his beard covered most of the visible area. She rubbed her hands on her pants, then rubbed them both over her face, hoping to distribute the dirt a little more evenly.

“You can shower if you want,” he offered. “I’ll watch the helm.”

It was a nice gesture, but unnecessary. Chopper and Rex and AP5 were all in the cockpit, and Kanan couldn’t really watch anything. “I don’t feel right about showering when the ship is full of people who probably need it worse than I do. It’s okay.”

He grinned. “So you’re just going to head back to work—”

“—with your semen between my legs? Yeah, I guess so. Unless you have other plans.”

That got her a laugh. “Force, Hera, you are sexy, but I’m not THAT fast.”

She kissed him lightly, careful not to re-open the cut on his lip. “Oh, I have been thoroughly taken care of for now.” Another kiss. “I’m all talk.”

He caught her hand. “No, you’re not.”

“You want the mask?” she asked gently. With this many people on the ship, he’d probably prefer to have his face covered.

“Yeah.”

So she fished it out of the corner for him and stretched on her tiptoes for one more kiss to his eyebrow before he covered his face. There. Everything in its place, everyone at home. They’d been beaten, but the battle was finally over. 

And they hadn’t lost everything. Kanan attached his lightsaber to his belt, then gave her a cheeky little grin. _You don’t get this, Thrawn_ , she thought. _If you want him_ _—_ _if you want them, my people_ _—_ _you have to go through me first. And you can’t do that, not even with a whole fleet._

“I can tell you’re looking at me,” he said. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” 

“I can tell when you’re smiling like that too.”

She just grinned in response. 

“Ready?”

“Ready.”


End file.
